The Intensity of Wind
by OhGreat
Summary: Matsumoto wasn't surprised to see Gin leaving in a cold silence. Maybe she'd be better off dating someone like Kenpachi Zaraki after all; at least when he got mad, he just destroyed buildings. COMPLETE.
1. It's Monday Morning, Gin

_The Intensity of Wind_

(Or the Challenge of Keeping Gin Ichimaru in One Place)

Chapter 1:

It's Monday Morning, Gin

* * *

At five past ten, Matsumoto pulled a Shunsui and fell asleep on a bench outside Division Ten. It was by no means a roof, but the productivity levels were similar, and Captain Hitsugaya still got angry either way. 

Remnants of Friday's paperwork crowded the inbox and desks of Hitsugaya's office, which Matsumoto promised she'd get done two weeks ago but then forgot about. 

Besides, Hitsugaya was a paperwork inducing machine; Matsumoto had figured out his system of obligation years ago, and concluded Hitsugaya spontaneously attracted surplus amounts of paperwork other captains never dealt with. Hitsugaya was a magnet for unneeded toil, Matsumoto its gorgeously endowed repellent.

Monday's schedule was routine: waivers, bills, and review sheets. Wash, rinse and repeat.

It was the same thing. Every. Single. Monday.

But Matsumoto slept through most of it, because Sunday nights meant alcohol, which perpetuated hangovers, resulting in a painful Monday morning and an even worse afternoon. 

If Hitsugaya ever felt sorry for her, he never showed it, and instead he communicated his feelings through adverse shouting and pointing. She'd spend about five minutes spacing out and then another five minutes trying to remember what Hitsugaya had told her, but most of the time she stared idly at paperwork until nine-thirty before she'd sneak off and sleep for a half hour or so.

Today it was nearing eleven; Matsumoto's internal Hitsugaya-Alarm Clock was ringing. 

He'd be out there any minute, throwing his arms around as an attempt to intimidate her or something…

"Do ya sleep every Monday mornin'?" 

Well, _that_ wasn't her internal Hitsugaya-Alarm Clock. The H.A.C sounded more like an irritating shock running down her spine…With blurry vision, Matsumoto focused any attention she could gather on the figure standing over her.

"Normal people do," she replied to Gin Ichimaru, covering her eyes with the base of her forearm. 

She didn't have enough mental awareness to question Gin's appearance or his motives; the throbbing hang over and the Hitsugaya-Alarm Clock where enough on their own. Yesterday marked three months since either she or Gin had even managed a hello to the other, and today her hangover killed her sentimental salutation reserves. 

"No hello?"

"Not unless you can cure my headache," Matsumoto grumbled, removing her arm and looking into Gin's face. "What're you doing here?"

Gin smiled. "I'm here ta see ya."

"If Captain Hitsugaya catches you here—"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be sure ta tell him he's lookin' like a grown up now."

Matsumoto glared as she threw her legs over the side of the bench, combing her fingers through her hair. "I'm sure that's exactly what you'll say." She paused. "Wait, don't really say that." 

Gin's grin expanded. 

"Let's go," he said, tipping his head in an irrelevant direction.

Matsumoto rolled her eyes and sighed loudly. "Go where?" Gin was utterly doomed to a life of random moments—he left when desired, returned if necessary (and it always necessary), and found time for spontaneity without actually making any time for it. Ever since childhood, Gin garnered an unstructured lifestyle that couldn't be tamed by Matsumoto or any shinigami establishment, and as a result, Matsumoto wasn't surprised Gin was trying to whisk her off somewhere.

It was his three-month hiatus, however, that slightly pissed her off. 

Matsumoto was not a lonely girl, and Gin knew that, but the repercussions of a hit-or-miss relationship were annoying. He was either there or he wasn't, and for the last three months, he _wasn't_.

"Let's go drinkin'," Gin replied, and Matsumoto rolled her eyes and left the bench (and Gin) for the cool shade of headquarters. Gin didn't drink—_she_ drank, and Gin watched her drink, and that was about as far as the Gin-alcohol relationship got.

"No drinking," she wallowed, clutching her head as a streak of pain shot through her temples. 

"That doesn't sound like ya, Ran," Gin teased, "ya always want alcohol."

Matsumoto countered with a sharp, "not at eleven in the morning, _Captain_ Ichimaru." 

Gin laughed. "That's a lie, too."

Oh, he was right. Matsumoto always made time for the random cup of alcohol, sake, wine, whatever. But even she knew her limits. Hangovers had a tendency to be good indicators. Matsumoto assumed Gin was only suggesting drinking as a coax to get her to spend time with him, but unfortunately for the third division captain, she was not faltering. 

"Get lost, Gin," Matsumoto said, and she waved her hand in the air as a brush off. 

"Rangiku, that's so_mean_," Gin pouted after her, shadowing her figure with a more suggestive tinge than Matsumoto would've liked.

Matsumoto flinched at his playfulness and resigned to the same rush of feelings Gin always instigated. She threw a gaze at the wooden floor and replied, "…Maybe later tonight…"

She could hear Gin snicker again before snaking his arms around her waist. "Just come with me now…"

Matsumoto sighed as Gin pressed his body against hers, not out of defeat but out of exhaustion. It was the infinite charm of Gin Ichimaru that called to the soul inside her, the man she was cursed to love eternally in a relationship of missing nights and undying loyalty. 

She leaned into his chest, the feeling of muscle hidden by thick hakama pushing into her shoulder blades. Gin's arms were strong, safe, _hers_; she wanted those arms around her again.

Gin breathed, "I miss ya," as his face disappeared into Matsumoto's neck and hair, his grip tightening like a belt beneath her chest.

Matsumoto's eyes closed. She took Gin at face value, accepted his flaws, fell in love with his heart, and never asked for change, because it wouldn't be the Gin Ichimaru she met as a youth anymore. But the one vice Gin held constant, the one thing Matsumoto wanted _gone_, was his disappearing act. 

"Maybe if you didn't leave all the time, you wouldn't miss me so much," Matsumoto countered, a warning to leave her alone, but she placed her hand over his with affection if only as an anchor. She could feel her neck craning, her back tightening, and she realized she was sleepy.

"Yer tense today, Rangiku," Gin whispered, ignoring her comment and removing his arms from her body. Matsumoto's brain and the reasoning that came with it both disagreed, but once Gin had replaced his hands on her shoulders, massaging softly into her muscles, she couldn't argue with him. Tense around Gin? That was the response of every other shinigami in a ten mile radius of Gin Ichimaru—edgy, nervous,_tense_. The inner workings of Matsumoto's morality spectrum bickered amongst itself; the day she was uncomfortable around Gin was the day she'd start doing paperwork.

She sighed deeply. "I need to…" Words struggled to form in her head, the taste of articulation just at her tongue, but Gin's hands were awfully distracting today.

"Come with me. Just fer a few hours," Gin coerced, his lips at Matsumoto's ear…

Any hope of forming a sensible answer was thrown out the window, along with Matsumoto's sense of responsibility (ha!) and self-control. The reasoning in her head turned into foolish babbling, and instead of justifying her need to work, she rationalized her need for Gin. She'd only be gone for an hour at the most, and if Hitsugaya hadn't come looking for her by _now_, he wasn't going to any time soon. 

She missed Gin, and she sorely admitted she wanted attention from him. 

Just for an hour or two…

Wait.

What the _hell_ was she doing? 

"MATSUMTO!" 

The H.A.C. struck Matsumoto's nerves with the accuracy only a captain had. 

"Holy shit!" Matsumoto yelped, jumping backwards into Gin and nearly knocking the two of them over. As the world smacked back into place and the obligations of a Monday morning rearranged themselves, Matsumoto realized she was staring into the furious face of her seriously pissed off captain. 

"Captain Hitsugaya!" Matsumoto announced, pushing from Gin and clapping her hands together. "You know what? I've decide to turn over a new leaf! I'm a new person! I wanna do _paperwork_!" 

Paperwork? THAT was a stretch, and Hitsugaya knew it. He eyed her with frustration, his arms crossed, his brow so furrowed he looked more like an old man than a strapping young captain. But it was nothing next to the terrorizing glare he shot at Gin, who was smiling like the entire thing had been planned solely to entertain him.

"Captain Ichimaru, shouldn't you be with your division?" Hitsugaya snapped, his annoyance level set at an unprecedented high.

"Captain Ichimaru was_just_ leaving!" Matsumoto resonated, and holy crap if she wasn't resonating _loudly_. She emphasized Gin's departure with momentarily raised eyebrows, the tension of the situation so prominent it was like a fourth body was there. Gin had outstayed his welcome, and Hitsugaya's tolerance was virtually nonexistent. 

Finally, after an eternity of staring, awkwardness, and unseen hinting, Gin said, "Don't wanna stay where I ain't welcome. See ya later, Rangiku."

He was gone with a quick step of shunpo, and all that was left was Hitsugaya's displeased expression.

Needless to say, Matsumoto spent the rest of the morning completing paperwork.

* * *

**A/N: **GinRan is totally ignored. They're so hawt together. XD Comment, please! (Next chapter up tomorrow.) 


	2. Solving the Problem

Chapter 2

Solving the Problem (For Now)

* * *

Matsumoto sipped a cup of tea. "….I've never asked Gin where he goes or what he does, or even _why_ he leaves in the first place—talk about a broken record, honey. It's not like I need him all the time, because I don't, but I feel like I'm entitled to have my feelings hurt a little…Don't you think?"

Soi Fong stared blankly back at her, before her mouth creaked open and said, "Why are you talking to me?" You slut.

Same day, Monday night, dinner time.

The communal cafeteria was a mixture of light slurps and shuffling feet, the quiet of the air heavy on the few in mid-conversation. The busy hours of five and six, trafficked with hungry shinigami, ended an hour ago, leaving the cafeteria slow moving and silent. Hinamori and Yachiru were, to put it simply, not there, and Matsumoto's intense compulsion to talk to someone unarguably female had been knocking at the door ever since Gin had left her this morning.

In all truth, Soi Fong was hardly unarguably female, scary as hell, and always ate by herself at seven in the evening before retiring to training grounds to hurt something. Matsumoto had never intended to actually talk to the Division Two captain, but she needed a girl close to her own age, and Soi Fong's resume was the closest she could get.

Half way through, Matsumoto decided she missed Yumichika _dearly_.

But instead, she tried to smooth the tension down. "I'm talking to you because I like you! Because you're a good person!"

"Right," was Soi Fong's isolated reply at Matsumoto's total bullshit.

Matsumoto laughed under her breath. "Okay, I just needed an outlet to vent about Gin," she admitted because it was true, and Soi Fong needed communication lessons (Matsumoto was great at communication).

Soi Fong glowered. "I _hate_ Gin Ichimaru."

This was perfectly understandable, because Gin absolutely hated Soi Fong.

To Gin, Soi Fong was a female Byakuya, a crusader of the law who had obviously been wronged in the past, and therefore compensated by adhering to rules and regulations with a cementing commitment. She never faltered out of step, but unlike Byakuya, she flustered easily, and consequently had been tormented by Gin for almost twenty years. Yes, it was perfectly understandable, Soi Fong's hatred for Captain Ichimaru.

"I know, I know, but he's really not THAT bad, I swear, he can be pretty human," Matsumoto tried reasoning, only to get a disgusted expression from Soi Fong. "I know he's not exactly nice to you, I mean, he doesn't show it, but I think—"

Why was she covering for him? The purpose of this conversation had been to isolate the reason for Gin's disappearances and to justify Matsumoto's damaged feelings. But instead, she was standing up for a man who couldn't be knocked down?

Good lord, Matsumoto thought, where was Nanao when she needed her? Nanao dealt with flaky captains more than she ever would!

Soi Fong apparently wanted to get her two cents in, because she slammed her hands onto the table and peered into Matsumoto's face. "You tell Gin Ichimaru he's a groundless bastard and to leave Byakuya and all the other captains ALONE," she spat, her knuckles white as she punished the poor wooden table separating them.

Matsumoto raised an eyebrow slightly. But then Soi Fong's words mentally rematerialized, and she suddenly smiled a grin not unlike Gin's. "Byakuya? You call him _Byakuya?_"

It wasn't hard to see the only human aspect Soi Fong harbored was her uneven crush on Byakuya Kuchiki and her blatant denial of it. To add to her total sadism, she was probably the only one happy Hisana died.

On cue, Soi Fong's face brightened cherry red, and she quickly corrected herself, "_Captain Kuchiki_, I meant Captain Kuchiki!"

"Your face is red! Aww, that's so cute!" Matsumoto teased, clapping her hands together girlishly.

Soi Fong's face, if possible, turned from cherry to apple red, and she quickly stood from the table while scrapping together her dignity. "Good god!" she hissed, grabbing her paperwork and turning heel on Matsumoto without looking back. She proceeded out the exit and swore to herself she'd _never_ eat at seven in the evening ever again.

"Wait, I was just kidding!" Matsumoto called, but Soi Fong was certainly out of hearing distance.

She sighed and sat forward a little, pressing her elbows into the grain of the table and staring at a blank wall.

Was she truly trying to justify her hurt feelings as an attempt to show Gin's insensitivity? She wasn't making ground on the possibility, not to mention it was almost eight, so she really didn't care anymore. She'd likely see Gin in another three months, and the entire cycle would repeat itself.

_Maybe I'm more into stability now_, Matsumoto reasoned with herself but laughed it off instead. If the Gotei 13 had done anything, it had scheduled and steadied her random living style and morphed her into a real military dog.

It had done nothing for Gin, because even as a captain he couldn't anchor himself in one place for more than a month.

_What a lost cause_, Matsumoto streamed, shutting her eyes and rubbing her temples._Lost cause…_

Now she had a headache.

* * *

Matsumoto shoved the remaining files in catalog-order and swung a look at Captain Hitsugaya. "It's done, all of it," she swore, pointing at the box with an outreached hand.

Indeed the box at the end of Matsumoto's desk was filled with an uncomfortable amount of paper, in a fashion that resembled bombing grounds.

It was twenty to eleven, it was raining outside, and Matsumoto just wanted to go to bed without the thought of paperwork. She'd dream about it: piles and piles of excess work Hitsugaya altruistically collected from other squads, and they'd never leave the office again.

"That's fine," Hitsugaya murmured, unaware of the time or his lieutenant's exhaustion. He stamped a final paper before glancing up from the desk. "Just deliver these," he paused, lifting a pile of papers divided into two separate stacks by clips, "to Division Eight and Division Three, and then you can go home from there. Take the eastern route to avoid the rain—these have to be in good condition."

Good lord, a delivery assignment at eleven freaking p.m.? "Captain, you're cruel," Matsumoto complained, retrieving the papers from his hand and pouting. "I'm tired."

Hitsugaya turned heel and said coldly, "You shouldn't be with that nap this morning."

Ouch!

Matsumoto attempted a clever recovery, but she'd pissed off her captain enough in the extremity of twenty-four hours that after this morning's events, she'd be lucky to even to chip the ice off one of his shoulders. She didn't have sufficient enough patience to keep up with Hitsugaya's bad attitude, and she resolved to simply ignore future distractions until Hitsugaya's good graces welcomed her again.

"You better get going. I'll see you tomorrow at eight," Hitsugaya reminded, locking his drawer after clearing off his desk.

Matsumoto shrugged, tucked the paperwork under her arm, and disappeared from the room in a hasty flash step.

She knew, as she leapt from building to building, her captain was being merciful. He assigned her a delivery task to Division Three as the last obligation of the day, and he assumed she wouldn't be leaving Gin's office until the next morning. (Matsumoto found it sweet, if not slightly embarrassing.)

When Matsumoto arrived at Division Eight Shunsui's office, she wasn't surprised to find the lights on and a dutiful Nanao hutched over her captain's desk, oblivious to a second party's entrance. Shunsui was no where in sight.

"Still awake, huh?" Matsumoto asked, stepping into the office and inspecting the area for the pink giant of a man. How Nanao got stuck with all the work was a mystery to her, seeing as half the documents required a captain's signature in the first place. But Nanao's organizational skills far defeated any actual captain's, and so she supposed Nanao was about as much of a captain as Shunsui happened to be.

"One of us is," Nanao mumbled without looking up, pointing to a pink lump on the floor which was undoubtedly Captain Shunsui.

Matsumoto gave the lieutenant a pitiful glance and was suddenly thankful Gin wasn't a heavy drinker. "At least you'll get some work done, right?"

"Hardly," Nanao snapped, sitting back and pinching the bridge of her noise. "Sleep, like alcohol, doesn't keep him from talking. And it isn't about paperwork, let me tell you."

Matsumoto laughed lowly. She could only imagine the type of conversations Shunsui would have in his sleep, and if it dealt with women, body parts, and alcohol, Nanao was undeniably having a miserably evening.

"Anyway, I'm dropping off some waivers." Matsumoto released a stack of paper onto the desk's edge.

"They're wet," Nanao replied dryly, casting a glance of disapproval in Matsumoto's direction, who shrugged and rubbed the back of her neck.

"Uhh, yeah, I kinda forgot to take the eastern route. Sorry."

Nanao let out a long sigh. "It's fine. Just as long as they're not smeared."

Matsumoto smiled genuinely at her friend before remembering she'd wanted a conversation with Nanao since early dinner. With Captain Shunsui currently incapacitated, Matsumoto couldn't find the harm in chatting up Nanao for a few useless moments. "Hey, Ise?"

Nanao scribbled down something on one of the soaked wavers just as her ink smudged. She hissed a curse and snapped, "What?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Nanao managed a recovery, absorbing the ink with the tip of a napkin. "I could point out the irony of your question, but I suppose I just did," Nanao deadpanned, setting each waiver to the side in individual movements. "These are really damp, Lieutenant Matsumoto."

Matsumoto shrugged and sat down in a chair pushed off to the left. "What do you think of Captain Ichimaru?"

Good one, Rangiku. What a great way to totally perpetuate an already awkward moment.

Nanao glanced up from the damp paperwork and said without emotion, "He's a strong captain." And that was it.

Matsumoto fidgeted. "Yes, I'm aware. But I mean, what do you think of _him?_"

If Nanao was tying to worsen the situation by not answering, she was doing a glorious job. In fact, she was proving almost as helpful as Soi Fong, or in other words, Nanao had nothing good to say about Gin Ichimaru, and she wasn't about to BS an answer for Matsumoto's satisfaction.

"I don't really see the relevance of my opinion on the matter," was Nanao's scapegoat of a reply. She stood from her desk, stepped over Shunsui's now snoring body, and placed a handful of paperwork into a separate box.

Matsumoto looked disappointed. "You really can't answer me?"

"No."

Well, that worked out _great_.

A little insulted, Matsumoto left the eighth division quarters, frustration clawing at her starving level of patience. She contemplated discarding the Division Three papers into a rain shoot or something.

_Haha, then what'd happen, Gin_? Matsumoto thought evilly: she could imagine a crate of fifty replacement katanas arriving at Division Three, and without specifically designed weapon waivers, they'd be sent into storage where an entire two weeks of backlog would occur. Then she really_would_never see him again (which, as much as her brain disagreed with her, was not what she wanted).

_God, when did I start arguing with myself like this?__Just shut up!_

It wasn't an unnecessary question, though. Matsumoto's life, as unfortunate as it had been growing up, had evened itself out through a lieutenant-level status and a great portion of alcohol, not to mention a warm place to sleep and extremely good friends. If anything, her drama over Gin proved her life was something like a normal one.

So, maybe he'd turned irrelevant, then.

The thought occurred to Matsumoto; she didn't need Gin's guidance nowadays, and she'd stopped following him decades ago, not to assert her independence, but because there wasn't a need to tag along anymore.

Her heart told her she needed him in a different way now, if not as a guide, then as a friend and lover. Of course, Matsumoto ignored the idea that a friend and lover were the components of a successful husband, because if that were true, she and Gin would've married years ago.

_But it is true,_ Matsumoto's brain pointed out, tugging at her heart strings just a little.

_Hey! Reason and heart are supposed to be separate!_

_Hah, says you_.

Matsumoto, stalling beneath the overhang of Division Four, leaned into a wall and sighed. Was that it? Was Gin's relevance in her life a cry for marriage?

It probably wasn't. Matsumoto's stomach for marriage wasn't particularly iron; she couldn't see herself presently married to anyone. But somewhere along those lines, if marriage happened, it'd be with Gin.

Division Three was less than a quarter mile away, and from what Matsumoto could tell, the lights were snuffed until morning. While Division Ten at least lit its outer hallways with low-functioned lights and a few off-set fire spells, Division Three was lost in a desert of total black. It would behoove a shinigami to pocket a light-guiding substance whenever in the third division, because getting lost in a maze wasn't as bad as getting lost in maze without lights.

Matsumoto generally collected herself somewhere near Gin's office, but the lights were out (in other words, she couldn't find it). Instead, Gin's living quarters were a half mile due south. She caught a bead on his energy without trying, but delayed any actual pursuit until she had recognized all the repercussions.

When she finally knocked on Gin's door, the waivers were completely ruined.

The rain struck tile and wood as Matsumoto awaited an answer. She knocked again, same results.

"Captain Ichimaru," Matsumoto called out, throwing in formality just to piss him off. When there wasn't a reply, she said again, "Hey, Gin! Open the door!"

In the end, she yanked open the entrance herself because she was cold. "Gin?"

His aura pulsed through the next room softly, and it didn't take fireworks and road signs to signal that he was dead asleep. A light wave of disappointment filled a nook in Matsumoto's heart—she'd at least thought Gin would've waited up for her tonight. Did he really think she wouldn't come?

When she entered his room, he was asleep on his side, breathing like a song.

Matsumoto set the documents on a table, her view on Gin, her breath held like oxygen-intake would destroy Soul Society. Gin hadn't expected her, after all.

She turned around, exhausted, and made for the closest exit.

"Yer leavin'?"

Matsumoto stopped halfway through the threshold, closed her eyes, and said, "I'm tired." _What a little lying bastard_, she thought smugly, her temples pulsing.

"Then ya should lie down a bit," Gin whispered, suddenly behind her with a gentile tug on her hand.

Matsumoto's eyes flashed open—when had Gin even moved? Lord almighty captains could shunpo _fast_; where the hell had the casual stroll gone to?

Gin smiled into the back of her hair, skimming her fingertips with his own. "I gotta bottle of sake, Ran, if ya'd like it."

Oh, damn, just what was he trying to do? Seduce her? It didn't take alcohol to make Matsumoto spend a night with Gin, and it _certainly_ wasn't about to now. But since he had it….

Matsumoto smirked. So much for her unbeatable wall of anger. She could be such a pushover.

Gin was_her_ guy after all, no matter how much he coped out on normal lifestyles. She missed him in the end.

Matsumoto turned around, setting her arms comfortably across Gin's shoulders. His hair was clumped and damp, and she could tell he'd taken a bath only a half hour ago. It didn't help that he smelt positively terrific, either.

"Hmm, I don't know. Do I have a reason to stay?" she inquired lightly, tipping her head back to showcase her neck.

Gin smiled. "It's rainin'."

Like that actually stopped her from delivering papers in it.

"Well, Tenth Division _is_ far away…" Matsumoto said into a smirk, her eyes growing a suggestive tint.

It wasn't entirely a lie, either. The Gotei 13 constructed itself in numerical order, and each division was at least five miles long, with the exception of the eleventh squad's six miles (they broke more buildings, and Zaraki's shoulder length alone filled up an entire street). For experienced shunpo users, galloping across the thirteen divisions took about eight minutes; to avoid the rain, it took twenty.

"If ya were on my squad, ya wouldn't hav'ta worry about distance," Gin murmured, holding onto Matsumoto's waist and leaning inward for a kiss.

Matsumoto laughed lightly, whispering, "You know we'd get no work done."_Yeah right, you don't get work down NOW._

"That's what the rest of the squad's fer."

Matsumoto took a fast breath as Gin pressed his mouth to hers, kneading his hands into her lower back to propel their bodies closer. He was holding most of the weight, his arms positioned far enough to carry Matsumoto's body if the night went in the right direction. But there was no doubt as to _what_ actual direction the night was heading—Gin already knew this, and Matsumoto was trying to defeat it with a broken sword. Needless to say, she was losing.

Matsumoto's thoughts snapped at her emerging rationalization. _Where're all these inhibitions coming from? The next thing you know, I'll stop drinking, too!_

Gin's tongue had found entrance to her mouth about thirty seconds ago, leading Matsumoto into an entirely Gin-centric mindset (it wasn't much farther from her usual thoughts, anyway). And with the warmth of his body and strength of his arms, leaving before three in the morning was not an option.

Hardly a baby kitten, Matsumoto flexed her nails into the back of his neck and pressed her mouth to the side of Gin's lips, which just about drove him crazy. Abstinence around Gin was a laughable subject. Apparently so was self-control or any form of rationale, period.

Despite roaming mouths and hands, the pace was too slow, too clean, for either of them. "Oh, screw it," Matsumoto mumbled, securing her hold on Gin's neck as she pulled her legs upward, tangling them around his hips and pressing herself forward.

Gin's hands descended just below her lower back, holding her steady effortlessly. He grinned into another kiss before Matsumoto left his lips for the nape just below his ear. There were times Matsumoto broke boundaries if only to see Gin's reaction, and it'd now become a piece of an endless goal to floor him. As she proceeded to draw her tongue into the niche, he mumbled something that sounded like 'ohgod', but Gin rarely talked during their more adult activities together, so she couldn't be sure.

Matsumoto's comfort level with Gin transcended every shinigami in the Gotei 13; she had no secrets from Gin, and therefore very little embarrassed her around him. Their nights together reflected a pent up need for the other, and when things got heated, it only confirmed their relentless mutual attraction.

Gin's traveling hands undid the obi securing Matsumoto's hakama (and not much else), and his hands wandered first over her toned stomach before rising to an area most men could only ogle. Matsumoto's chest, although the highlight of male shinigamis' most frequent day dreams, was hardly Gin's favorite asset—of course it didn't stop him from taking as much advantage as he could.

Rather, the dips of Matsumoto's waist were Gin's obsession. He always placed his hands there first before running up, up, up.

"You know, you got me in a lot of trouble this morning," Matsumoto teased, skimming her hands up his neck and into his hair before giving a quick peck to his lips.

Gin smiled, but was nevertheless preoccupied. "Didn't mean ta'," he said, and they parted to avoid any unnecessary asphyxiation, which at that moment looked like a possibility.

In a lighthearted manner, Matsumoto sang, "_Sure_," just as Gin dropped back into his futon, setting Matsumoto into his lap.

There was a place just below Gin's collar bone that could bring him to his knees faster than a punch to the diaphragm could, and consequently Matsumoto used it more as a tool than a foreplay device. With a predatory stare, she pushed back Gin's robes enough to reveal his chest, and in a slightly evil fashion, licked his weak spot like time had slowed.

His body immediately tensed. Matsumoto grinned.

She discovered the weak spot a decade ago, and more out of curiosity, wondered if he had others. He didn't, naturally, and this one never faltered to make Matsumoto his one and only fixation for the night.

With aggression rarely seen in the Division Three captain, he hummed a quiet growl before grabbing her glutes and flipping them both over, pinning Matsumoto to the futon and devouring her lips into an earnest kiss. He shrugged off the remainder of his robes, and it piled behind him in a mess of white.

He trailed off her lips if only to breathe, moving to her neck and then to her collar bone. And suddenly without warning, he stopped his pursuit in a silence only broken by quick breaths and Matsumoto's curiosity.

"Is something wrong?" Matsumoto asked, propping herself onto her forearms as her hair spilled over her shoulders.

Gin smiled half-way without responding, an enigma in mystery.

He opened his eyes.

A light blue stared back at the squad ten lieutenant; calm, surprisingly normal, absolutely Gin Ichimaru.

But as soon as he had opened them, they were shut tight.

He took Matsumoto's fingers, running them over his lips, before he leaned in and crushed her mouth with his.

* * *

**A/N: **Can you just ignore the poor transition of the last scene? Their meandering had to go somewhere in order to open the next chapter, and I couldn't fit it anywhere else. ANYWAY, communal cafeterias probably don't exist, but Soi Fong and Matsumoto are the best recipe for an awkward moment. And DUDE, Soi Fong would totally crush on Byakuya. Yoruichi ain't there anymore, she needs someone else to obsess over. 

Next chapter up tomorrow.

Comments, friends? (and thank you for the reviews on chapter 1!)


	3. Late Again in the Gotei

Chapter 3

Late Again in the Gotei

* * *

It was positively criminal to step foot in front of Gin Ichimaru's living quarters before eight o' clock.

It was something close to suicidal to _knock_ on his door before eight o' clock.

And, being the lieutenant to a sadist captain, Kira dealt with such transactions daily. He knew the ins and outs of Gin's morning attitude, knew when to, quick frankly, stay far, far away, and if he was feeling particularly sharp minded, could predict Gin's mentality at least an hour in advance. But for the most part, if he kept the rest of the squad away from the captain until at least 8:01, Gin's mood was tolerable.

Of course, it was _these_ sorts of situations Kira feared the most: when Gin overslept.

Kira knew his jurisdiction was after eight, after Gin woke up, but Kira could never decide what happened if Gin was sleeping AFTER eight; he knew the consequences—everyone knew the consequences—but as the lieutenant, Kira ate the bulk of them. And he was already full on pancakes this morning.

The fifth seat of Division Three stood wearily behind Kira; he looked absolutely retched.

"Lieutenant, sir, I'd be more than happy to collect dust in your office!" he croaked with a furrowed brow. "I don't think—"

Kira verbally pounced on him. "You were in charge of getting those weapon waivers!"

"Sir, I_swear_, I never received any waivers!"

The fifth was probably telling the truth—no, Kira knew, he was definitely not lying. But Captain Hitsugaya relayed a message saying Matsumoto had delivered them last night, so they had to be somewhere.

"It's 9:30, Captain Ichimaru can't still be asleep," Kira reasoned out loud, ignoring the fifth's frantic excuses as he tried to conclude whether or not he should knock. He'd rather deal with an MIA Captain Ichimaru than an angry one, but the squads had assembled over an hour and a half ago awaiting orders. It was Kira's job to act as leader when the actual captain was a) very dead, b) missing, c) unavailable, or d) hopelessly incapacitated. But Gin was clearly in his room, his aura representative of someone lounging around.

"Sir, might it be best to leave the captain alone, sir?!" the fifth spurted, his arms tight at his side, shoulders erect.

Kira frowned. Probably.

Okay, Kira, get a grip. Just knock. Once. Or twice, because a proper hello is two knocks, not one. Just twice…

ReadySetGo!

Two knocks.

Kira's shoulders dropped slightly when Gin didn't answer. He could already feel a bad Tuesday rounding in the back of his neck. Great, this was freaking great. Why couldn't HE have gotten Aizen as a captain? What was so great about Hinamori, anyway? He just _had_ to get the most passive aggressive captain in the Gotei 13.

_Please let my aura sensing abilities be wrong, please, gods, I will stab out my own heart and feed it to you, please_…Kira agonized as he decided on his next, possibly suicidal, action.

He opened the door.

At the least, he expected his captain to be asleep. At the most, scapegoating work.

But instead, he saw more of his captain—and more of Lieutenant Matsumoto—than most of Soul Society had ever seen.

Covered by oddly placed sheets, arms, and legs, Gin and Matsumoto were fast asleep in what looked like a disaster zone. Pillows, sheets, and the occasional nightstand were tossed across the floor like trash, leaving the room in a chaotic state. Matsumoto, thank god, was lying on her chest, and Gin had his arms tangled around her like he'd fall apart if he didn't hold onto something.

"Oh, shit—" Kira swore, trying to mend his error by quickly stepping in front of the fifth, but it was too late.

"No way! Is that Lieutenant Matsumoto?!" The words echoed from the fifth's mouth in a way not unlike an avalanche-hazard.

Gin stirred.

Kira's face dropped into an open hand. "I'm so fired," he mumbled, unable to control the damage mounting right in front of him.

He could've called in sick today. He could've volunteered his body for one of Mayuri's experiments.

But no. He just decided to show up for work because of his stupid honor to his stupid dead parents.

"Hmm? Izuru?" Gin mumbled, sitting up, and he _opened his eyes_.

The fifth gasped.

The excitement of the morning didn't die down, because Matsumoto promptly sat up with him, revealing her ample chest, that, before this morning, had only ever been seen by Gin Ichimaru. Not anymore!

Kira's eyes widened and the fifth's mouth _gaped_.

The door slammed, and Kira spun around in terrified steps that looked more like poorly timed spasms. He ran his hands through his hair and muttered, "This is not good!" before facing Gin's door again. He had to fix this! "Captain Ichimaru, sir! I apologize for my intrusion, but it's nearing ten o' clock, sir!" he yelled through the door, staring heatedly at the ground. (Sir, sir, sir, sir, sir, _majesty;_ he could add a dozen and it wouldn't make the situation any better.)

Gin said nothing, but Matsumoto's reaction was enough for the both of them.

"NOT AGAIN!" she bellowed, and much rumbling could be heard from the other side of the door.

* * *

"Calm down," Gin tried to reassure, but Matsumoto's frantic attitude had already been set off.

She said nothing as an attempt to save time, but she was two hours late with or without Gin's comments, so she sulked anyway. "He's gonna force two weeks of paperwork down my throat!"

This was not a lie. Zaraki retaliated with concussions (or murder, if you're unlucky), Shunsui was always late himself, so he never punished anyone, but Hitsugaya, oh, he liked to torture his subordinates with icy glares and a fresh stack of dense, unappealing documents that required eighteen signatures each. It took twenty ungodly minutes to read the _title_.

Gin rubbed his eyes. "He ain't gonna do that." He hadn't moved from his spot, and if Matsumoto hadn't been locating her scattered clothing, she would've noticed he seemed unusually tired.

"Right, you know he has a bizarrely proportioned amount of pessimism in that little body of his," Matsumoto replied, tying her obi around her waist with the experience of a habitual late runner.

Gin stood up, the sheets falling from his body; he looked around for his pants before he said, "ya haven't even washed yer face."

"I'm sure I can scrub it down with the ice he's gonna shoot at my—," Matsumoto shut her mouth and decided not to finish that sentence.

Hitsugaya was not evil, but screw up three times in two days, and he could come uncomfortably close.

Gin wasn't smiling. He looked over at the woman in front of him and said, "Ya can getta diff'rent captain, ya know."

Matsumoto was busy locating her zanpakuto and mumbled absentmindedly, "I would never want another captain."

She hadn't predicted the sting of her words until she had said them aloud; she instantly stopped her search and stood up quickly, catching Gin's large smile, which usually meant he was extremely annoyed. He tied his pants on, still bear chested, and turned from her coldly, walking into a second room and shutting the door behind him.

Oh, nice move.

Matsumoto wasn't surprised to see Gin leave in a cold silence. This typically happened whenever Captain Hitsugaya entered the conversation, instigating a plethora of awkward tension. Maybe she'd be better off dating someone like Kenpachi Zaraki after all; at least when he got mad, he just destroyed buildings.

"Gin," Matsumoto called, but he didn't answer, and she assumed he'd left the vicinity entirely.

The clock told her she was beyond late.

As she hurried out the door, she knew the two most important men in her life would eventually tear her down.

She couldn't walk in opposite directions much longer.

* * *

**A/N: **Isn't Kira great? His perpetual loyalty is so easy to make fun of. I would totally be Kira if I was a shinigami. A total push over and scared shitless of my captain. 

Fifth seat's a playah! What a perv. XD

**Next chapter's up tomorrow**, and thank you GREATLY for the lovely reviews (and dude, Artificial Life Creator, I totally cracked up at your comment, poor loser of girl Soi Fong! Her stands are eternally too high.).


	4. The Grapevine

Chapter 4

The Grapevine

* * *

By lunchtime, the fifth seat of Division Three had become something of a legend.

It was one thing to see Gin's eyes.

It was quite another to see Lieutenant Matsumoto naked.

But it was something entirely unbelievable to see them together in the vicinity of thirty seconds.

Division Eight, unfortunately, was the first recipient of the news:

"But Rangiku never showed me her assets, and I was her first captain!" Shunsui sobbed into Nanao's shoulder, enhancing the melodrama with every fake sniffle. Nanao, respectable, sensible Nanao, rubbed her temples slowly and contemplated forty-five varied lifestyles as a nun.

"Captain, I hardly think this is worth—"

"Do you know what this means, my lovely Nanao-chan?"

Nanao closed her eyes with irritation. How he could fluster himself over another woman while calling her "his lovely Nanao-chan" was beyond her mental capacity. "No," she forced out, clenching her jaw with false respect.

"She's become a harlot! She's loose! She's a—"

Before her captain could finish his unruly sentence, Nanao pitched her grimoire at his head.

As was expected, Division Thirteen found out next:

"Well, it's only natural Captain Ichimaru would open his eyes as he woke up—it's how you wake up, after all," Ukitake reasoned over a freshly baked batch of legal documents.

The gossip vine stopped there for approximately fifteen minutes (Ukitake does not gossip), before Kiyone caught word and quickly relayed the info to Lieutenant Isane Kotetsu of Division Four an hour before lunchtime, and by then, the gossip vine could not be controlled.

Isane conveyed the tidbit to a third seat in Division Two, and two minutes later, Captain Soi Fong was in the know.

"I knew she was a whore—no one would dress like that and sleep with that asshole," she sneered without compassion, crushing her heel into the dirt ground she stood on.

Hinamori, who was delivering a never-ending cycle of documents, looked at the Squad 2 captain in horror. "Lieutenant Matsumoto would never act like that—Ma'am!"

Soi Fong snorted. "She and Ichimaru can have each other—God knows they're the most irritating pair in the Gotei."

Hinamori shivered and wondered if Soi Fong had a generally nasty comment to say about anything with a pulse. "I'll be departing now, Captain Soi Fong!"

"Yeah, yeah," Soi Fong mumbled, ignoring her like a piece of trash.

Obviously, Division Five was next in line:

Aizen pushed up his glasses and sighed. "Lieutenant Matsumoto seems like a much more sensible girl than that, Hinamori. I wouldn't worry about Captain Soi Fong's musings."

_Gin, I thought you were over her_, he reflected darkly, his chin hidden by a pair of laced hands. _She'll only get in the way_,_you know this…_

Hinamori sighed. "I apologize, Captain, I'm just surprised by such a cruel rumor…"

(The second rumor of the day was Kira's partake in the entire thing, which he feverishly denied before locking himself in an office all morning. He took no visitors.)

As the remaining divisions gathered the news, it wasn't until Captain Hitsugaya sent his lieutenant on a delivery trip to Division Eleven that Matsumoto found out about the traveling slice of tittle-tattle.

Squad Eleven was robust with combat, growls, and the smell of…copper as Matsumoto entered the separate division with a wrinkled nose. She sidestepped a wall of boisterous shinigami preparing for human-world departure and nearly had her head taken off by a flying set of ill-watched swords. If there weren't at least two fractured spines by lunchtime, it wasn't a typical morning for Division Eleven.

Matsumoto was a proverbial goddess to a good portion of the squad; whistles, hollers, and the occasional compliment were part of the package. But as she shunpo'd threw the corridors, Matsumoto vaguely noticed a lot more grins this time—and a lot more whispers.

By the time she reached the Division Eleven central offices, she was being_gawked _at.

Zaraki's office, as expected, was empty. Yachiru's, empty. The day Zaraki actually sat in his office would most likely never occur. Instead, Matsumoto wandered around the bare halls with uncertainty before her favorite fifth seated shinigami coughed loudly from another room.

Matsumoto threw a hand into the air and waved girlishly. "Yumichika!"

Yumichika, surrounded by an eternity of paperwork blunders, looked up from a document in an exhausted daze and rubbed his eyes. Who was out there? Was someone saving him from paperwork? Was that… "Matsumoto!" Yumichika exclaimed, leaping from his desk in a series of colorful eyelash flutters. "Is that really you? Or is my overtly document-filled brain hallucinating?"

"Oh, god, I know how you feel," Matsumoto sympathized, clasping a hand onto her friend's shoulder, "It'll get better, I swear."

Yumichika sulked. "It's horrible; ever since the sixth broke his clavicle bone in fourteen different places, I've been stuck with all the paper work!"

"The nerve of him!"

"I know!" Yumichika ran a hand through his hair. "And I'm getting blisters." He held up his fingers, which looked perfectly fine, and pouted.

Matsumoto threw him a sympathetic look. "Well, here, this should make you feel better." She handed the fifth a pile of documents only just signed by Captain Hitsugaya and stamped by herself. "These are completely done and are in no need of extra authorization."

Yumichika's expression was positively enthusiastic. "Thank God, I think I just fell in love with you."

"Understandable."

They grinned.

"Oh, so, hey, Yumichika, what's up with your squad today?" Matsumoto asked, pointing in an arbitrary direction that somehow represented Division 11.

Yumichika, filing the papers into a cabinet, immediately froze. Like a guilty child, he averted his glance to the floor and left it there. "Uh…what's wrong with my squad?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing's wrong…I just feel like I'm being stared at a bit more today…"

"Well, you are the personification of provocative, darling."

Matsumoto's eyes slid heavily to the right, and she promptly threw a deadpanned look in Yumi's direction. She was used to stares, she liked the attention gaping groups gave her, but there was something uneasy about it today—almost like the stares were out of mockery, rather than glorification.

"What aren't you telling me?" she glowered, throwing her hands onto the desk and earthquaking the mountains of paperwork.

Yumichika jumped. "Nothing!"

"Yumichika!"

He shrugged. "I can't believe you don't know already!"

"What? What _are_ you talking about?"

Yumichika rubbed his forearm and returned Matsumoto's glance with an apologetic one. "…Yeah, so, about this morning…"

Matsumoto uncrossed her arms in favor of her hips and said with annoyance, "What about this morn—_oh, my god_." Her words tripped over themselves in a standstill of utter realization as that morning replayed in her head—over, and over, and over…

"You have got to be kidding me," Matsumoto spat, throwing her hands in the air, "How the hell did _they_ find out?"

Yumichika's face dropped. "…I might've had a hand in that."

Matsumoto gaped. "You didn't."

"I think I did."

"WHY?"

"…the fifth from Division Three said he saw you and Ichimaru—in a compromising position—and you know, fifths of a feather flock together—"

"So, you told the entire eleventh squad?"

"…Maybe."

Matsumoto suddenly sighed. "I didn't realize how fast gossip travels when you're not the one spreading it."

"Oh, yeah, I think most of the squads know about it by now, Matsumoto," Yumichika kindly revealed, patting his friend on the shoulder. "Want me to tell the fifth of Division Three you're gonna kick his ass? I can get on the Fifth Seat gossip vine and have him freaked out by the time you get there."

Matsumoto waved him off. "What? Of course not! I'd of done the same thing if it had been me in his position!" This was true—gossip was her alcohol-free social exchange during the week when sobriety was all but restricted.

At least now she could comprehend the ridiculing grins people were flashing at her. What a _mess_ this was turning into.

"Huh, I knew you two were 'buddies', but I didn't know you were that serious," Yumichika continued, brushing his chin with a set of fingers.

Matsumoto closed her eyes and tipped her head back. She wasn't scared of Gin, which made her different, and different was the black sheep of a very conformed Soul Society. There was a mutual understanding throughout the Gotei 13 regarding Gin and Matsumoto—or in other words, Matsumoto was extremely off limits.

"I don't think you can call it serious," Matsumoto sighed, slumping over Yumichika's desk.

Yumi snickered. "Why? Is he screwing it up?"

Matsumoto grinned. "Yeah right. He's not around enough to screw it up." And with such a final statement, she could do nothing but leave.

* * *

At dinner, the office was hushed with silence.

Matsumoto yawned and picked at her food, segregating meat from wheat and then blending it together, a tradition when bored, tired, or at the most, full. Entertainment was starved, Hitsugaya was gone, and the rest of the squad was at the dining halls. It had been her choice to eat at her desk, which she admitted was sorely uncharacteristic. The door was open in case of company, but even Matsumoto knew fooling herself was ridiculous.

The door was open as an invite for Gin, who she knew wasn't coming.

Her unexcused longing was getting annoying—and the more she noticed it, the more she realized it was an addiction. Emotional, mental, physical—but instead of orderly, it was simultaneous, a polyphony of needs rounding on her heart and rationale. Impatience was replacing the sporadic encounters they based the majority of their adult life on, and slowly, slowly, slowly Matsumoto knew she wanted Gin more than ever.

She needed alcohol.

No, _not_ alcohol.

She needed a date. To what? Get "over" Gin?

Matsumoto shook her head, terrorizing the conscience that _would not leave her alone_. She was becoming as bad as Nanao.

"Matsumoto?"

Matsumoto gradually glanced up from her food before realizing Hitsugaya stood in front of her. "Oh—Captain!"

Hitsugaya clicked on a light and looked at her suspiciously. Matsumoto couldn't entirely blame him, either. "Is there a reason you're still here?" He cleared his throat. "You're typically gone the moment the clock hits seven."

Not a lie.

Matsumoto smiled. "Just eating…"

Already the situation was growing awkward.

She quickly added for sincerity, "Hey, do you need any help with anything? I don't mind staying for a little while."

Hitsugaya coughed awkwardly on nothing, and, in a state of shock, all but died. Seriously, had his lieutenant resigned while he was gone? Was this some kind of freaking Matsumoto-clone? Was the world ending? Hitsugaya, baffled, asked, "Are you okay?"

Apparently not, if she just _asked_ for more work.

"Wow, I really did just volunteer myself for extra work, didn't I?" Matsumoto pursed her lips and glanced at the ceiling. She must be feeling glum if work actually sounded appealing. But the busy mind does not stray, and her mind needed a leash badly.

As if to prove he couldn't stay mad at her for long, Hitsugaya smirked in his lieutenant's direction. "No, no extra work for now."

What a freaking lie. He had work in places people didn't know existed.

But in weird Hitsugaya language, he was giving her a break and basically telling her to cheer up. At that moment, Matsumoto decided she'd never leave Division Ten or her captain.

She smiled. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then, Captain."

"On time," Hitsugaya added, but he was smiling anyway.

Matsumoto promised, "Oh, yes, on time for _certain_."

* * *

**A/N: **Har har har, I like how all the other divisions are all "OMG, Matsumoto was topless!" and then Ukitake's like "Ichimaru opened eyes—let's analyze this!" Oh, and I love that Shunsui and Nanao are basically the Roy and Riza of BLEACH. xd

I threw Aizen into the grapevine because I love what a two faced backstabbing bastard he is. I loved his relationship with Hinamori until he decided to chop suey her. Jerk! 

Anyway, thank you again for your wonderful support, I truly appreciate it! Next chapter up soon!


	5. Like the Old Days

Chapter 5

Like (the Old Days)

* * *

He found her in a bar, outstandingly sober.

A good bottle of sake had no metaphor—if it was good, it was good, and if it was bad, you bought a better one. She drank as a reward; she drank for company.

But she never drank as an aversion. If she started drinking for depression, drinking wouldn't be fun anymore—it'd be necessity, it'd be a problem.

When she didn't drink, she knew there was something wrong. _(I've been walking in the same way as I did.)_

The sake she ordered an hour ago sat still like a dead man. The bar was quiet, the customers, quiet. It was very much a Tuesday, the formidable brother of the unwanted Monday, making the week feel long.

The gossip died down because no one believed the fifth of Division Three, and Matsumoto knew Gin had somehow asserted a fearful tyranny over the grapevine. With little to entertain, the day finished gray, and sleep was the only thing to anticipate. She could feel herself stepping off the mainstream road of tonight's friends. _(Missing out the cracks in the pavement.)_

She traced the edge of the glass with a forefinger.

Gin smiled. "Not drinkin'?"

Matsumoto smirked at the reality of the idea and sighed a little. "Not today."

He pulled a seat over and sat down close, watching her face and smiling more. "Did yer lil captain piss ya off, Rangiku?"

The exhaustion of Gin's disrespect showed itself in Matsumoto's shoulders. Her body tensed again, and she said just above a whisper, "Captain Hitsugaya has, if anything, been too nice to me." She made as if to sip her sake before rejecting the idea for the continuity of sobriety.

Gin found this amusing for absolutely no reason. "That so? What a gentl'men he's bein', then."

His sarcasm went down like a hawkeye.

Only hours earlier, Gin's company had been a priority. Now, she could only weigh Hitsugaya's sincerity against Gin's mockery; the difference draped like lead over her rationality. The bare idea of comparing them period was enough to rack heavily across the conscience that would never stop rolling. (_And tutting my heel and strutting my feet.)_

Matsumoto didn't face him when he started talking.

"Gotta new recruit today. Young, smilin'. He killed a bird fer no reason, fer fun. Ya gotta know he's a—"

"Don't."

The effect of the cut off was enough for Gin to glance at her quickly—he smiled. "Hmm?"

Matsumoto swallowed before looking him in the eyes, "Don't talk to me like I'm someone you can't stand."_(Is there anything I can do for you, dear? Is there anyone I can call?)_

The saying went, if Gin didn't like you, he'd talk to you. In circumstances of close employment, Gin found amusement through irritating people he hated—Byakuya, Soi Fong, Hitsugaya—by randomly instigating pointless, if not disturbing, conversations. He did it for the rise; pissing Byakuya off was entertainment with legs. It was _amusing_ to unsettle the settled, the serious, the untouchable. It was a game.

Gin didn't reply. He leaned in very, very close, watching her eyes, watching her face, before he kissed the side of her mouth. _(No, and thank you, please, Madam. I ain't lost, just wandering.)_

His breath pressed into her skin.

Matsumoto pulled back for the same reason he pushed forward. "Where would we be right now?" she asked, stoic, the question rounding the base of her brain, "if we weren't military dogs?"

She recognized the drama of the question—it wasn't the answer she was looking for; she wanted a reaction from the man whose face never changed.

Like the question was attractive, Gin leaned in again, remembering the old days, and grinned. "We'd be dead."_('Round my hometown, memories are fresh.)_

Matsumoto made no reaction. She stared into the sake she wouldn't drink and replied, "I knew you'd say that."

Around them, the bar thinned. It was not a drinking night.

Foreshadowing his intentions, Gin placed a hand near the back of Matsumoto's neck, running it through her hair and cupping the side of her face. "Lemme see ya tonight," he murmured, the warmth of his hand relaxing against her flesh. _(The people I've met are the wonders of my world—)_

Matsumoto breathed a hollow laugh. "I've got work to do," she lied. She wanted his invite two hours ago—now, it was just an embellishment.

"The night ain't short," he countered, running a thumb just beneath her eye.

"Of course it is, Gin."

She watched his smile amplify into a mask of a pained man.

He stood up to leave, the white of his uniform falling behind his departure. The bar was drained of people, the atmosphere still as a standoff, and Gin couldn't find a thing to say.

As he turned from her, it was pure instinct that Matsumoto caught Gin's hand.

"Gin," was the only word she let slip, but it was enough to clear an entire conversation of sharp questions and painful answers.

Before Matsumoto could formulate an actual phrase, Gin took her face in his hands and kissed her.

Black replaced the colors of the bar, and the warmth of Gin's body mixed with the discomfort of hers until the rest of world dropped out of sight. She could feel his hands outline her neck and shoulders, down her back, and he hugged her to him with an intensity of true unattended desire.

This was their relationship: raw, honest, ruined but still good. _(Shows that we ain't gonna stop, shows that we are united.)_

The clock read eleven when Matsumoto opened the door to her living quarters, leading Gin inside before running her nails up his neck and crushing her mouth to his. They struggled against the other, tight grips, rough jerks, quick breaths. The entire package of déjà vu, the familiarity, the aggravation—it all grouped together with every agitated growl and flustered movement.

He pushed her into the floor, she pulled him down, and their lips met with a hunger born from uncertainty and hiatus. They yanked at the other's clothes without much success; desire flourished and frustration showed through every stumbled action until Gin gave up and kissed her as hard as he could.

But the night's direction foretold a different story.

Matsumoto dug her tongue into Gin's mouth as he held her weight within his arms. His legs straddled her hips until he was completely on top of her, pulling at the dip of her uniform with a free hand, untying anything he could find.

_(Oh, the people I've met.)_

She ran her hands across his back, tracing his spine until fingers met the collar of harsh material; she pushed back his hakama until he was all flesh from the waist up, but progress lied two feet lower, just like they did in the old days. _(Memories are fresh.)_

Neither could spare a moment to hurry the process along, but Gin's hands in the end slid down, down, down her stomach. He kissed her neck, kissed her body, until—

"What's this—" he jeered, the wired up smile gone. "Ya didn't tell me ya were expectin' company, Rangiku."

Matsumoto started, quickly yanking opposite Gin's neck as she sensed a third party approaching her room.

"Gin—I'm not—" Matsumoto began, but the familiar aura was fast impending, and she swiftly pushed Gin off her just in time to pull the top of her hakama back on.

A knock immediately followed.

Throwing a worried glance in Gin's direction, Matsumoto proceeded to the door before sliding it open with a feeling of ambivalence.

Hitsugaya stared back at her.

_(The people I've met are the wonders of my world…)_

* * *

**A/N**: Everything in parenthesis is from a song called "Hometown Glory" by Adele. Just certain parts of the song fit this chapter well: the sarcasm of "the people I met are the wonders of my world" and "fresh memories", etc. I don't expect anyone to get it, so it's okay.

Two more chapters to go.

I hope you'll stay with me. : ) Thanks again for the wonderful support. 


	6. The Intensity of Wind

Chapter 6

The Intensity of Wind

* * *

Hitsugaya generally disregarded his lieutenant's disgustingly exclusive relationship with Gin Ichimaru. Of course, the idea of the pairing was hardly believable anyway, unless you caught them together (which is, unfortunately, what happened to Hitsugaya).

He assumed Captain Ichimaru, like so many (many, many) other men, held an unrequited torch for Matsumoto, and like so many other men, had come to woo her. Matsumoto rarely garnered the attention of captains (Shunsui, as a given, didn't count), but to catch Ichimaru's interest was something entirely out of place. He was a closet sadist, annoying, and infinitely suspicious; he liked to see writhing and trembling and stuttering. Matsumoto didn't like writhing, trembling or stuttering—she liked alcohol, parties, and shopping, three things Gin Ichimaru abstained from notoriously.

It was on a Friday afternoon around four when Matsumoto went missing, and Hitsugaya seriously considered bar hopping just to find her. But a quick bead on her energy revealed she was somewhere in the Division Ten vicinity.

A few quick steps down the hall, a sharp turn at the left corner, a nod to Seat Five, another turn…

Wait.

Hitsugaya froze, crossed his arms like an old man, and frowned. Matsumoto's energy, once solitary, now bled into a potent, excessively powerful one, drowning out his lieutenant's position like an eclipse at midnight. Obviously, it didn't take Hitsugaya more than a millisecond to confirm the owner—Ichimaru was somewhere on _his_premises, and for what reason, Hitsugaya couldn't contemplate.

Forgetting Matsumoto and her whereabouts, Hitsugaya donned his curiosity cap and pursued the Division Three captain with a hefty dose of skepticism and just plain irritation.

He found the fox near the armory and training quarters, standing alone, or so he thought, until Matsumoto walked into the room and promptly kissed the Division Three captain on the mouth.

If Hitsugaya had been on a pedestal at that moment, he would have certainly been knocked off it, thrown onto the floor, and kicked in the diaphragm.

He was not tired, he was not ill, he was not even remotely drunk…All logical conclusions threw a finger in the same direction…

Wait, Ichimaru could very well be blackmailing his poor lieutenant into sexual favors, abusing his power as a captain! The thought, a shockingly innocent one considering who he was dealing with, was dismissed immediately, and Hitsugaya's frown deepened. The only thing 'poor' about Matsumoto was her manners.

He didn't so much watch as he did gawk at the canoodling couple standing before him, oblivious to his company and apparently THE RULES for dating. It was not unlike watching an experiment gone wrong, or seeing Shunsui naked. His lieutenant actually found that horrid thing appealing? And Matsumoto had _variety_—men of all sorts, all stratifications, short, tall, handsome, plain, called upon her daily, and she chose the one man without a relatively normal gene in his body?

What. The. Hell.

Who Matsumoto meandered with was hardly Hitsugaya's business, but all things considered, this was flat out fraternization, if not completely disturbing.

The most he could think to do was bark a snarky "Matsumoto!" in their direction, which resulted in a startled lieutenant and an amused Division Three captain.

Matsumoto was all apologies, but Ichimaru looked positively _pleased_. Hitsugaya locked a cold stare with the fellow captain, and a battle of assertion sparked for the first time between Division Ten and Division Three.

It was that day Toshiro Hitsugaya and Gin Ichimaru bore a white hot hatred for the other not even the Gotei could cool down.

And now, out of all places, Hitsugaya was standing in front Matsumoto's living quarters, staring at her like they were equals.

He waited, she watched, and together they comprised the perfect recipe for awkwardness.

Matsumoto, bouncing body parts and all, threw out a cramped salutation that sounded something like, "Captainwhat'reyoudoinghere?"

This had been a bad idea. Hitsugaya was slightly sleep-starved, if not completely exhausted, and consequently his rationality was not up to par. Concern for his lieutenant didn't equate near a good enough reason to stop by her _house_ at ungodly hours. And he was jumping down Ichimaru's throat for fraternization?

Hitsugaya crossed his arms uncomfortably and mumbled, "It's nothing. I was just checking to see if you're drunk."

Matsumoto's mouth twitched. "That's very responsible of you!" What in the Gotei's name was her captain doing at her front door? And what kind of excuse was _that_?

In-between the uniformed surprise and anxiety, Matsumoto found the situation weirdly amusing. Outside obligatory work and the occasional party, Hitsugaya took loner-esque refuge in his living quarters or the library, where very little socializing occurred. In fact, Matsumoto wasn't sure Hitsugaya had ever been near her bedroom at all.

Hitsugaya glanced awkwardly to the side before crossing his arms again. "I'm sorry to bother you this late—"

Matsumoto unintentionally cut him off. "Don't be sorry! Unless you need me for paperwork, _then_—"

If anything, Hitsugaya looked more out of place by her outburst. He loosened his posture and said, "It's not paperwork!"

Huh. Not paperwork. Weird.

Hitsugaya's gauche expression didn't seem to bother Matsumoto. Instead, she smiled softly and asked, "Is something wrong?"

The utter silence that formed was enough to make Matsumoto a little nervous. Finally, Hitsugaya said, "…I just wanted to see if you're okay." He shrugged as an explanation before looking back at her, like his intense lack of articulation and body language was more than an enough to get the message across.

Matsumoto felt the ends of her lips twist upward. Her captain, as cold, law-abiding, and young as he was, knew kindness like very few did, saving it for times when it was needed, rather than superfluous. His heart, a genuine one, never forwent understanding.

She stepped over the threshold as a part of her reply, but before she actually said anything, Gin appeared.

His arms slid around Matsumoto's waist, and she could feel his body push against her own in a silent battle of ownership. Gin smiled as he pressed his cheek into Matsumoto's. "Well, well, if ain't the lil captain comin' on over for a visit. Ain't it passed yer bedtime?" Gin asked, locking eyes with Hitsugaya. "Why would she need ya? That's what I'm here fer."

Matsumoto tensed. Gin was no doubt acting like an unjustified asshole to assert dominance over the only other prominent male figure in Matsumoto's life. He way playing his cards well: Hitsugaya's face changed from one of embarrassment to undeniable anger. The tension flourished.

But instead of playing his own cards, Hitsugaya refused to join the game. He nodded slightly. "You're okay, then." Pause. "I'll see you at work tomorrow."

Matsumoto lurched forward as an attempt to call her captain back. She loved Gin in her own specially screwed up way, but the frustration he caused her was pricey: his contempt for Hitsugaya often cost her more than she was willing to pay for.

"Hey, Gin? Can you wait for me inside?" Matsumoto asked, brushing Gin's hand with her own and pressing on it gently, if only as a silent apology.

Gin showed little reaction to her request. He kept an amused gaze on Hitsugaya as he kissed Matsumoto's jaw, slowing removing his arms from her waist. Without a word, he disappeared into the room behind them.

The kiss lingered hot against her face, flaring before the inevitable fade. Undoubtedly, Matsumoto felt uncomfortable not because of Hitsugaya, but because of Gin's attitude. He left her with a very loud message: she was there to see him, not her captain.

Matsumoto ran a hand over the base of her neck and sighed. "I'm sorry."

Hitsugaya's eyes, which had been digging into the ground, slid forward. "You don't need to apologize."

Matsumoto shook her head. "It's not that." She paused, looked to the left, and slowly sat down on the wooden stairs leading to her porch. "I haven't been much of a lieutenant lately." _I haven't been much of anything lately._

Hitsugaya, who could truly never demean any of his subordinates, found a seat next to her. "You've just been distracted."

His excuse sounded infinitely better than hers, and a lot less accusatory. But even with his cop out, Matsumoto couldn't excuse her behavior. She mumbled something under a sigh and threw back her head.

"I've never enjoyed a division as much as this one," Matsumoto announced with pride, pulling the declaration virtually out of no where. But the sudden proclamation was an important one, a necessary one. She rested her chin against her propped up hand and finished, "I'm probably never gonna leave, just as a warning."

Hitsugaya looked away from her, but as soft as a whisper, smiled.

* * *

It was common knowledge Gin stayed nowhere for very long.

(And this happened to triple whenever Hitsugaya or Byakuya was around.)

It was only natural Matsumoto would forget the rule—she typically forgot most rules, or at least forgot to listen to them. It was her mistake when she reentered her room to find it coolly empty, ruffled sheets the only sign he'd been there. A light strand of Gin's reiatsu remained, but he was very much gone.

She should've known he'd leave.

Of course he would.

She pressed a hand to her forehead, and for the first time in what seemed like years, she wanted to cry. She wanted to sit down, find a pillow, sob into it, and hope to God it made her feel complete again. The proverbial weight on her shoulders bowed over her entire body, hunching her spirit, her drive, into a bundled mess. Quite frankly, she didn't know what to do except to cry.

As expected, she didn't. She couldn't, because it took a lot to make Matsumoto's eyes sting.

Instead, she leaned into a wall and stared darkly at the floor

She wasn't lazy by nature, probably, but if something was forever out of reach, she gave up on it. What was the point of pursuing wind?

Matsumoto smirked. That was it. Gin was like wind. He went where he wanted, and he couldn't be caught. Anchoring Gin was like trying to capture wind in a bottle: impossible.

Was that it, then?

The answer felt dry against her throat, sick to her stomach, and absolutely cold-hearted. The answer felt wrong, cheap—Gin was worth much more than that. He deserved a better metaphor, at least.

Gin was there for her as a child, as a lover, as a friend. She knew his sincerity stretched to her and very little else. She knew his purpose was, perhaps, a less tangible one for him than for others.

But she knew above all, the answer to Gin resided not in an anchor, but in trust. The answer, she knew, was acceptance.

No matter where Gin went, days on end or for only a minute, he'd come back.

He always did.

Matsumoto took a long breath. She'd always recognized the answer, but she held onto it with uncertainty—the very singsong threat of "maybe this time, he just won't come back" hung in the depths of her head constantly. But they'd been alive for centuries, and his reason to return always outweighed a final reason to leave.

But this time, she wanted reassurance.

"Oh, no you don't, Gin," Matsumoto growled, closing her eyes and focusing her attention on the remainder of Gin's energy, isolating his feel and scoping the lengths of the Gotei for anything remotely familiar. He was nearly gone, his bead so faded it seemed he'd been a ghost only moments ago.

A minute passed: still nothing.

She refocused her concentration and tried a second time.

Nothing.

She knew little about Gin's refuges: he never told her, because she never asked. The only method of even remotely catching his bead was through his energy outlet. In the past, she let him leave with no strings attached, but tonight, if not for him, then for herself, she needed to catch him.

With a very deep breath, Matsumoto closed her eyes again, sorting through the fields of energy bold enough to get in her way. A dark tunnel with no end, just unfamiliarity and disappointment until…

There!

Matsumoto's breath caught, and she opened her eyes before flash stepping out the door as fast as possible.

His reiatsu was almost completely undetectable, and his distance was so far she marveled at his speed. How she would catch up, she had no idea, but the goal was clear, and she had to try.

For every step she took, he was three ahead, increasing the gap with such proficiency it was no wonder very few could ever find him. Where could he go? There were nearly no places the Gotei 13 didn't occupy.

At last she could feel the increments downsizing. But something was wrong: the distance shouldn't be closing if Gin carried footsteps at his normal speed. Why would he slow down? Was he near his destination already? But the solution was fast approaching: Matsumoto deliberately stopped as she realized Gin knew she was following him. He knew, and the only question remained: would he keep going?

Gin could leave her if he wanted: a quick step of shunpo, and he'd be so gone it'd be like he didn't exist.

He was playing with her.

His aura flourished close as Matsumoto picked up speed again, the night air stinging her face and neck. Her body felt hot, her heart was erratic, and the thought of participating in Gin's game of Catch Me if You Can was surprisingly uplifting. The encouragement ran across her lips, and she drew a tongue over them. She wouldn't lose this time.

The battle waged from rooftop to rooftop as his three-steps-ahead-reality became a two step jump-start, before transforming into a shockingly equal playing ground. They were nearly step-in-step, Gin's silver hair and white coat a faint blur against the black backdrop of the midnight evening. Her throat burned with each intake, but the desire to keep up overpowered the need to stop and rest.

She could see his shoulders, his arms, but every time she extended a hand to catch him, he was out of reach.

The division they were in was unknown. Matsumoto's concentration dwelled on Gin and no one else, but she suspected they were going west, and were most likely in Division Eleven.

She sprang forward in an attempt to close the space between them, but he only increased his speed.

"Gin!" Matsumoto called, her teeth grinding and jaw tight.

Gin smiled. "What's this? Yer followin' me? It's just like the old days, ain't it?"

"Oh, shut up!" Matsumoto glowered, clenching her fists. Good lord, he really was playing with her!

Gin chuckled. "Ya gotta try harder than that, Rangiku."

Without a warning, he sidestepped backwards, and very soon they were running in opposite directions, east flinging from west like nature intended. Matsumoto skidded to a stop and swore loudly, redirecting a flash step and sprinting after him again.

They were heading back through Zaraki's division now, which wasn't a bombshell so much as a bomb itself: Zaraki leaked energy like a dam had broken and flooded a town. Thankfully, the Division Eleven captain was asleep on the opposite side of the sector and wouldn't be bothering either of them until the next day. But even with the beast asleep, the uneasiness of trespassing through a division where power was measured by brute strength alone was disconcerting.

"Would you just stop for a minute?!" Matsumoto shouted, pursuing Gin without much luck. He wasn't a captain just because he looked good in the uniform.

Gin found her request entertaining, but did nothing to fulfill it. He was having fun even if she wasn't, and the fact that she was tracking_him_ was a surprising turn on.

"Ya can go faster than that!" he baited, waving in Matsumoto's direction.

But Division Eleven had merged into an even more disconcerting Division Twelve, which, as far as Matsumoto was concerned, was far worse than dealing with Captain Zaraki. Matsumoto glanced around her anxiously, nearly losing her focus on Gin, but it couldn't be helped. Mayuri typically punished trespassers more than the ignorant shinigami lost on his way home, and his punishments were particularly unmentionable. This chase was gaining a risk factor, but what else did Matsumoto expect?

"Gin!" she hissed, but she knew by now verbal ropes wouldn't get him to stop.

Gin glanced back at her, grinning. "What? Ya don't wanna say hi to Captain Twelve?"

Why Gin found amusement in others' discomfort Matsumoto would never understand. The idea of a game was to play, but all too often Gin mixed sport with danger, transforming the innocence of amusement into a plethora of untimely disasters. She needed to talk to him, she had to tell him something, but this was getting too out of hand.

Gin recognized this, too, because their speed increased and they were standing at the border between Division Two and Division Three.

The night was stark: there was no moon, no clouds, just a very naked sky and a silent surrounding. At the worst, Matsumoto was in Gin's territory, on his playing field, and if she wanted him, she'd have to go all the way.

Their speed cut in half. Maybe Gin knew neither of them could keep it up for very long; maybe he wanted an ending to the story, or at least a different direction.

Matsumoto saw Gin ahead of her. She knew he was so insanely out of reach…

Holding her breath, she made the decision even she wasn't entirely sure she was ready for, but it needed to be said. With her heart raging against her chest, she said very clearly, "Will you marry me?!"

The situation grew cold, grew terrifying. Gin stopped dead on a rooftop, his foot adjacent to the black tiles around the black night sky, melting into him like he wasn't really there. Matsumoto's lips fell together with an airtight seal, the weight of her question universally heavy. It hung in the air simply because no one said anything, the ideology of the question perhaps a final test of Gin's loyalty (at the least) or his penchant toward Matsumoto (at the most).

She wanted to know if Gin would be there in the uncertain future, if their lives together meant something outside the realm of spontaneity and hiatus.

Matsumoto, eyes narrow, clarified her intentions quickly. She said, "When I ask this, I don't mean now." She paused, swallowing thickly. "In ten years, in twenty, I just want to know it's a possibility you'll still be here!"

Maybe the question wasn't needed: they'd been together in an on-and-off continuity for a very, very long time. Was it a given they'd marry someday?

Gin wasn't smiling: if he had any respect for her, he wouldn't smile. It was a question Matsumoto had never asked him before, and it deserved a truly authentic reaction. But it seemed for a couple like the two of them, an answer couldn't articulate itself in words. It was in the sincerity of the face, the eyes.

At that moment, he moved to her without saying anything. In the end, perhaps that was best.

* * *

**A/N: THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER**, one more to go. I know it's been two weeks since I've updated, but I never fail to get stuck when writing serial stories. Anyway, whether you agree Matsumoto and Gin would marry shouldn't matter, because it's not the point. :) 

Is anyone still out there? Just echoes? Comments?


	7. Epilogue: The Grapevine's Overtime

Chapter 7

Final

Epilogue (The Grapevine's Overtime)

* * *

The fifth seat of Division Three looked exasperated. "But it's _true_!"

Yumichika, who was quite fed up with the fellow fifth seat, deadpanned, "You're full of bull, no one believes you anyway, so give it up and go back home."

"I'm serious! Why would I make something like this up?!"

Yumichika ran a polished hand through his hair and sighed. "You're really telling me you 'heard' Matsumoto propose to Captain Ichimaru?"

The fifth seat nodded feverishly. "When I was walking home last night, it was barely passed twelve, I swear, and I stopped to lean against a building, because I was kind of drunk, and they were both on the roof!" He paused for dramatic license before continuing. "_She_ asked _him_."

"And, pray tell, just what was the answer?"

The fifth seat rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I'm not entirely sure…I couldn't hear a reply…"

"So, you're saying you were, in fact, close enough to hear the proposal, but not the answer?"

"Yes."

"…You're so full of it."

Whether the fifth of Division Three was telling the truth or not didn't matter, because the piece of gossip hit the grapevine so fast it _must_ have been a slow day for everything else.

It soared across Division Eleven and into the arms of Division Thirteen, where Ukitake was preoccupied with a bewildered Shunsui.

"Married? Oh, that's fantastic!" Ukitake sang to Kiyone, the wielder of the info, who had marriage dreams of her own.

"How is that fantastic?" sobbed Shunsui, who swore to the gods he had stopped by for paperwork retrievals and not gossip. "Rangiku can't marry that despicable thing!"

Ukitake held up his cup of tea and cheered. "Why not? Ichimaru could use a girl like her! I'd of given my consent years ago!"

"You're such a traitor! I full-heartedly disapprove!"

A disgruntled Nanao was standing beside Kiyone; she could only imagine her captain's well being for the next six months. She sighed and pinched her nose, anticipating varied sobs, melodrama, and of course, alcohol.

"My lovely Nanao-chan, what will we do?"

"Sir, I think it unwise to pluralize _your_ discomfort."

"Very well! I'll only send _two_ bottles of the finest sake to show my undying contempt!"

"…How generous of you, captain."

The division next in line was, of course, Division Two, which Nanao bee lined for as an attempt to finish work early. Soi Fong was in her office rather than the training fields, and she took the information shockingly well in relation to Shunsui.

"They're getting married?" she asked, either alarmed by the news or the idea that Ise Nanao was actually gossiping.

Nanao simply nodded, handing the captain a waiver document from Shunsui. "I need your signature, Captain Soi Fong."

Soi Fong snatched the paper from Nanao's outstretched hand and scribbled something on it without caring.

The news wallowed gently in her throat, prompting her to swallow uncomfortably. For the first time in a hundred years, an unfamiliar sense of loneliness breached her heart, and without intention, she thought not of Byakuya, but of a woman she knew she'd never see again.

She quickly shook her head and dismissed the thoughts, cursing the marriage out loud. "I hope they divorce."

Nanao mentally rolled her eyes and left.

The grapevine untangled itself from Division Two and went backwards through Division Nine, where an unhappy Hisagi found the news detrimental not only to his drinking life, but to his future.

"They're getting married?!" Hisagi spat in abrupt shock, grabbing Kira by the collar and yanking him into the room. "Why?!"

Kira pulled back. "Hisagi—I—need—to—deliver—these—"

"Speak, damnit. You're Ichimaru's lieutenant, you should know this information."

The flood of gossip penetrating Kira's already abused brain sparked no sign of familiarity. He shrugged and returned Hisagi's request with a sheepish reply. "I haven't heard anything like that! I think it's just a really bad rumor!"

At once, Hisagi relaxed and slapped Kira on the back. "Thank God, I thought I was going to have to interrupt the wedding."

"…Uh, you do know they _are_ together, though, right…?"

"What?!"

The grapevine flourished for a good two hours before circulating through the entire vicinity of the Gotei 13, appropriately ending with Division Ten and a very baffled, if not slightly concerned, Captain Hitsugaya. The information instigated more of a curiosity than astonishment, because even Hitsugaya knew this would happen one day.

For once, Matsumoto was at her desk, dutifully penning waivers due in an hour, and she showed no sign of stopping until Hitsugaya cleared his throat.

"Yes?"

Hitsugaya gossiped about as much as Ukitake and Mayuri did, but it concerned_his_ lieutenant, so he more or less had a right to know.

"…You've heard the rumors?" he asked carefully.

Matsumoto penned something down before locking a glance with her superior. "Yes, I've heard them."

Hitsugaya gave her an annoyed look. Was she honestly _trying_ to get him to ask?

"…Well?"

Matsumoto tucked a hand beneath her chin. "Oh, so you're curious?"

Hitsugaya frowned and didn't answer.

"Oh, then you're not curious?"

"…Fine, I'm curious."

"About what?"

"Matsumoto!"

Matsumoto pouted. "Well, there's more than one rumor around, you know."

Hitsugaya crossed his arms defiantly. "Fine, are you marrying Ichimaru or not?"

The silence barked loudly throughout the room as anticipation settled across the Division Ten captain's shoulders. He waited until Matsumoto finally stood from her desk, looking as if the answer would simply spill from her mouth. But instead of saying anything, she smiled slyly and left the room for deliveries.

* * *

-**(Between a Week and a Month Later)**

* * *

At five from nine, Matsumoto pulled a Shunsui and fell asleep on a bench outside Division Ten.

It was Monday again, a blatant reminder the rest of week was still there. The day was overcast but comfortably warm, with the rest of Division Ten picking up Matsumoto's slack as she slept through the morning uninterrupted.

Sort of.

"So, ya do sleep every Monday mornin'."

Matsumoto's lips twitched and she opened her eyes. "I can't get work done until at least eleven o' clock."

Gin grinned. "That so? It ain't eleven yet."

"Exactly." Her smile held a suggestive flare as she sat up, her fingers creeping along Gin's chest until her arms hung over his shoulders and around his neck. "I still have a few hours."

Gin leaned in. "Ya hear the rumors?"

Matsumoto tipped back her head and pursed her lips. "Only the good ones."

"And which ones're the good ones?"

"Hmm," Matsumoto pondered, brushing her fingers over the back of Gin's neck. "Well, I heard from your lieutenant that we're getting married. I was rather shocked."

"Married? Izuru's been eavesdroppin'."

Matsumoto grinned, her hands sliding downward and grabbing the material of Gin's collar. "Oh, I think it was innocent enough." She pulled down gently, feeling Gin's mouth press into hers, drinking in his kiss with a dizzying lightness. His own hands cupped her face, tracing the lines of her jaw, her neck, as if they were a maze he'd run through a thousand times, still never finding the exit.

"It ain't a rumor if it's true," he whispered, kissing her jaw before hovering over her mouth.

Matsumoto felt her heart do something along the lines of flutter, and perhaps that's why she couldn't stop smiling.

The worry of an uncertain future was a perquisite for a shinigami, but the only part she cared for was Gin Ichimaru, which now had a tangibility it'd never had before. It was accessible; it was _possible_.

She kissed him again, pressing into his body as he held onto her waist.

She had nothing to worry about.

"MATSUMOTO!"

Well, for now, at least.

_End_

* * *

**A/N: **If you didn't get the ending, that's Hitsugaya yelling.

Gosh, I just adore Ukitake, Nanao, and Shunsui. They're hilarious! If you couldn't tell, I have a penchant for Soi Fong, also. Her little scene on the grapevine was about Yoruichi, if no one got the reference. I threw Hisagi in there because he's one Matsumoto's drinking buddies, and it's so obvious he has a crush on her. 

So, it's all finished! Thank you everyone who's stuck with me on this, I think you've all been insanely consistent, and I really do appreciate that. 

Please review! Thanks so much!!


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